


Hand-Me-Down

by BlackSamuraiLiterature



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Summoner
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSamuraiLiterature/pseuds/BlackSamuraiLiterature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lives lead by demons are rather easy and basic, not needing to care much of an outside world, however they do know their rightful role in it. Pixie never truly was able to experience this role, and her life was a rigid, emotionless one until she was under the ownership of a dashing Kuzunoha summoner. Sadly, nothing can last forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand-Me-Down

For as long as she could remember, Pixie always bore this feeling of an overshadowing dread suspended above her. It was like she was something used—used, discarded, and reused—never amounting to anything in her favor. Time and time again, summoner after summoner, she was passed down a line, becoming some sort of keepsake or token rather than a demon. Surely she knew that she would pass through the lives of many masters, demon’s long lives destined it so, but as a revered being. Instead, she was simply there, a collectible on a shelf, nothing relatively close to what she imagined her life would be like when she was first created.

            It was the young summoner in the gakuran that had fused her years ago. The schoolboy looked promising, she thought to herself; inexperienced yet skillful, threatening yet kind and inward yet honest, but she would never get to know. Like the goods of a merchant, the poor fairy was cast aside—traded—from one to another merely as a bargain, a thoughtless exchange of commodities. At first it confused her, but over time it simply hardened her because the exchange cast her into the line of Kyouji and that line of Kuzunoha was unforgiving. The First was a rogue who was rugged, unethical, and dishonorable. He fancied things of power and might, and such was why he specifically requested that Pixie have such a fearful skill as Megidolaon.

            After the First came the Second and after the Second came the Third, the unfortunate fairy tumbling down the line of summoners like a hollow heirloom, but then there was him, the current Kyouji Kuzunoha.

            In honest truth, he was not much different than his predecessors, yet Pixie noticed there was something obscure, odd about his character than made him more prominent than the rest of his lot. The man was a skillful summoner, like they all were, with numerous powerful allies, but yet he still chose to summon Pixie to engage in battles. The man had other women in his life, a beautiful warrior princess of a partner, but yet he still chose to flatter Pixie with interest. The man also had more important matters to attend to, his occupation as a private detective being burdensome, but yet he still managed to converse in idle chat with Pixie on occasion. The man had acknowledged her, cared for her, and befriended her, and it was foreign.

            And it was delightful.

            And her heart began skipping beats when her summoner beckoned her presence—glee dancing across her face in sensation. It was timeless. Every day blended into the next in fluid harmony. For once Pixie was happy, and it was not even from persuading her primeval nature as a demon, rather it came from a different source; because of this for some time she forgot she was a slave, a creature, an object—an illusion of humanity shrouded her.

            Such a positive influence, Pixie would muse, but like a waning season or the setting of the sun, it could not and did not last forever. Abruptly something sparked a change in the man she knew to love and favor, never recognizing when the transition occurred. It was too sudden, too spontaneous.

            The white suit he so delicately took care of was traded in for a purple one that looked vaguely similar, and his choppy, unkempt hair became groomed and styled backwards. His skin was paler, he was slightly taller, and his face took a longer, angular shape; though he had different body and went by different names, Pixie recognized the soul belonged to the same Kyouji she served, or so she thought. Unfortunately, that too had slowly altered with time because in the end, to him she was worth nothing more than a demon able to perform Lost Word.


End file.
